Tag Archives: the novella carpenter survival diet

Day Two

Feeling more human, but not quite.

Last night I cooked up the best part of the rabbit, as a gift to myself. The loins. They are the two strips of muscle running along their backs. Like a pork loin, these muscles don’t do much so they are tender, tender, tender. I fried them in duck fat, sprinkled with salt, and a side of home-made Gravenstein apple sauce. Heaven. Still, I went to bed hungry at 9:30. Now that I look back on it, I was going out to eat almost every fricking night! I had really gotten used to eating way too much food. I blame Bill.

Couldn’t get up this morning. What do I possibly have to look forward to? Usually the thought of the tea with milk and honey was a huge motivator. I settled by into bed for a long morning, cuddling with cuzzin the cat. But the chickens kept coming up to the back stairs demanding their food, and then the goats whinied, etc. You can see how people live longer because of their demanding animals.

Once up, I made what will surely become my new tea: frothed goat milk with honey. And two aspirins because there is no caffeine in either of those things.

Then I devoured a quarter of a baked trimable winter squash. Holy carb day-dream.

Since there was a rainstorm, I made some tomato soup from the rabbit bone stock, and enjoyed the fringed side area of the rabbit, which is flat and should taste like a veal milanesa but I didn’t pound it, so it was like an insole of a shoe. Still, pretty good when fried in duck fat. The soup is amazing. Also, a garden salad was picked before the storm. Then I think our chimney blew off the house. Oh well, I’m doing a cleanse, dammit, I can’t worry about my rented  apartment’s infrastructure.

More applesauce. Discovered two of the baby rabbits are missing, and one is wounded. What is going on out there on the deck? Is it like Watership Down? Separated everyone. Fuck. Now I have two baby bunnies (the albino survived) in my apartment.

Dinner of soup, rabbit forelegs (sorry little guys, ignore that frying smell, it’s just your aunt!), and applesauce with dollop of Bebe cream. Mercy.